


Shelter

by sunaddicted



Series: Superbat October Drabbles [26]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Healthy Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slice of Life, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 23:23:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16418006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunaddicted/pseuds/sunaddicted
Summary: "Hungry?""Moderately""That's basically saying that you're starving in your language" Clark teased lightly[...]





	Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: tender embrace

_Shelter_

Unsurprisingly, when Clark arrived in Gotham, it was raining; he'd heard enough Gothamites joke about how the sun never shone in their city but he'd always dismissed what it clearly must have been an hyperbole - many years later, Clark could only grimace and recognise that they hadn't been exaggerating at all: he could count on his hands the times he'd witnessed a completely crystal clear blue sky in Gotham.

Clark pushed his hair back from his forehead and ducked inside the manor before his shoes got wet and Alfred would skin him for trailing mud all over inside the house; if anyone wondered about who Bruce had learnt the infamous Batglare from, they shouldn't have looked any further than Alfred's downright murderous gaze when someone left prints on the clean floors and expensive carpets he had slaved over for hours.

And Clark couldn't really blame him.

"Master Kent"

"Hello, Alfred"

"Master Bruce is not at home"

Clark frowned "He's not?"

Alfred shook his head and handed him an umbrella - which looked more expensive than the suit Clark had on and that, despite being his best one, still looked shabby compared to what Bruce wore on a daily basis "He's at his parents' graves"

"How long has he been out there?"

"Half an hour, sir"

Clark nodded and ducked back out of the manor, umbrella open to shield him against the steadily worsening drizzle: it seemed that he had flown in just in time to avoid a storm and he hoped he could get Bruce inside before it fully hit; Clark flicked a glance to the dark sky and quickened his pace when he saw the dark clouds behind the manor, hanging low and ready to burst.

The Waynes' family graves were situated in the back garden, secluded in a rather modest plot that stretched into the woods that surrounded the manor - Clark found it rather morbid, keeping a family cemetery in one's garden but Bruce seemed to find solace in having his parents close and being able to visit them whenever he wanted. So, he never spoke out aloud about his uneasiness and just stood next to Bruce when the other man needed company, giving him that silent comfort that Clark had learnt worked better than a thousand words on his lover.

Who was currently standing in front of a couple of deceptively simple looking headstones, shoulders bent under his umbrella in a clearly dejected manner that made Clark wish nothing more than wrap his arms around Bruce and try to make him feel better - and so he did. Clark closed the umbrella and stepped under Bruce's, making enough noise that the other man would be able to pick it up over the murmuring of the rain before he drew him close to his chest and landed a chaste kiss just behind his ear.

"Clark" Bruce sighed and leant into the small display of affection "You're already here"

"According to Alfred, you've been out for a while" Clark hummed "Bad day?"

"You could say that"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Bruce shook his head "Later" he brought his free hand up to caress his lover's arm, greedily soaking up the warmth of his skin - it ran even hotter than usual, there must have been a nice sunny day in Metropolis "I want to stay like this... for a little while"

"We can do that" Clark reassured, kissing once again that sensitive patch of skin, breathing in the other's scent seemingly enhanced by the warm humid air that weighed down on them like a shroud.

Like a cape.

Bruce burrowed deeper in Clark's chest, as close as he could manage without turning around and burying his face in his lover's neck - his shelter.

"Alfred has taken the roast out of the oven" Clark murmured after a handful of minutes, his ears easily picking up the noises coming from the manor: Alfred was getting the plates ready while Tim put out slippers for them on the butler's order; Jason was towelling his hair dry as he walked down the stairs, an unusually cheerful spring in his step; Damian and Cass were feeding Titus, making sure that he wouldn't disturb them while they had dinner; Dick was still in his bedroom, talking about leads over the phone with a colleague in Blüdhaven.

"Let's go then"

Bruce's words shook Clark out of his focus and he nodded, opened his umbrella and stepped out of the other's shelter: no matter how big the umbrellas were, they couldn't stand together under the same one - he could reach out and take Bruce's hand, though "Hungry?"

"Moderately"

"That's basically saying that you're starving in your language" Clark teased lightly - the light punch Bruce threw at him was completely worth it when he saw a small smile tug at the other's lips.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted this fic to have a very specific feel - soft and peaceful, like being wrapped up in a blanket - and I hope I managed to convey it.


End file.
